ellauri053.html on line 1166: At this point in his review, Eliot moves toward thinking that to make sense of Yeats you have first to remember that he is an Irishman. He thought that to be an Irishman was to be deprived of wit. Mut sitä pitempi oli jästin hanging dick jäykkänä.
ellauri080.html on line 729: At school, his academic results were described as mediocre. One report concluded that Gandhi was “good at English, fair in Arithmetic and weak in Geography; conduct very good, bad handwriting.” His first English teacher was an Irishman, and so Gandhi spoke English with an Irish accent.
ellauri184.html on line 237: The result, he says, is that even an impeccably Jewish Galilean in first-century Jerusalem was not among his own people; he was as much a foreigner as an Irishman in London or a Kuopio person in Helsinki. His accent would immediately mark him out as “not one of us,” and all the communal prejudice of the supposedly superior culture of the capital city would stand against his claim to be heard even as a prophet, let alone as the “Messiah,” a title which, as everyone knew, belonged to Judea (cf. John 7:40-42 ).
ellauri220.html on line 387: Smoked Irishman
xxx/ellauri085.html on line 106: If it is a surprise to learn that Lawrence originally conceived of Women in Love as a money-making pot-boiler, it comes as an endearing shock to read that James Joyce submitted some of his early work to the firm of Mills and Boon. There is no record of the reader’s report, beyond the fact that he rejected Dubliners as unsuitable material for the unique imprint of that publishing house. For his part, Lawrence had no doubt that the author of Ulysses was the real smutmonger of modern fiction. ‘My God, what a clumsy olla putrida James Joyce is!’, he wrote to Aldous Huxley, ‘nothing but old fags and cabbage-stumps of quotations from the Bible and the rest stewed in the juice of deliberate journalistic dirty-mindedness.’ To his wife Frieda he wrote, after reading Ulysses, that ‘the last part of it is the dirtiest, most indecent, obscene thing ever written’; and he later complained that Joyce had degraded the novel to the level of an instrument for measuring twinges in the toes of unremarkable men. Joyce’s reply to the charge that he was just another pornographer doing dirt on sex was to claim that at least he had never made the subject predictable or boring. He denounced Lady Chatterbox’s Lover — his title for Lawrence’s notorious novel — as a ‘lush’ production in ‘sloppy English’ and dismissed its ending as ‘a piece of propaganda in favour of something which, outside of DHL’s country at any rate, makes all the propaganda for itself’. It is a minor irony of literary history that both men were married at Kensington Register Office in London, although, unlike Lawrence, the Irishman allowed a decent interval of twenty-five years to elapse before the solemnisation of his nuptials.
xxx/ellauri304.html on line 515: There is a hierarchy of character. Minor characters, you let vanish. Usually you bring them alive for a moment by using stereotypes. Stereotypes are not necessarily evil or bad; they are boring characters who are typical members of a group and your readers know the group… Cabbie, cop, waitress, nigger, telephone operator, prostitute, lawyer, doctor, politician, drunken Irishman (What? Are there still some of those?), Italian who talks with his hands. We might not like stereotypes of groups to which we belong but as writers they work. These are place-holding characters; they do their job and disappear into the night. Writers of pulp fiction, say.
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